WHAT IF?
by Dan Bivens
Summary: What would it be like if, in the real world, there came a billionaire who would rise up to become an honest to God superhero such as Batman or even Superman?
1. Chapter 1

**WHAT IF…?**

**There Really WAS a Batman & More!**

Chapter 1

Robert J. Johns never knew his actual father.

Not until the mysterious man died suddenly, secretly leaving a multi-billion dollar fortune for a bastard son he'd neither acknowledged nor approached at any time during the handsome, green-eyed young man's twenty-odd years of a decidedly doleful life.

Mega-wealthy R. David Morrison made it his personal mission to maintain a secretive perspective on the boy. Especially so since Robert had demonstrated, more than once, that he had the inquisitive IQ of a misunderstood, underachieving, lost-to-dubious daydreams individual.

And daydreams had unalterably led R. David Morrison from the clutch of lower-class life to become one of the few multi-billionaires whom, unlike such as Bill Gates and Steve Jobs, viciously avoided the blinding glare of publicity.

Choosing, instead, the ability to walk amongst the teeming masses of any major American city…from New York to California and even down into the Deep South!…and not draw any undue attention onto himself.

And, since this ultra-wealthy entrepreneur had never tied the knot of matrimony to legitimize the inevitable birth of a baby boy from one of seemingly endless lovely ladies with whom he had shared his seed…

And as Robert became that biological link such as R. David had denied himself down through the thoroughly long and, at times, exceptionally lonely years…

R. David dedicated his last few years of esoteric existence, as well as, upon his ultimate demise, unbelievably vast assets, to the young man named Robert J. Johns.

Including, incredibly…

"…and this is only one of your more-than-modest homes, Mr. Johns," precisely stated Theodore Algernon III, with a hint of haughtiness usually reserved for the super-rich, though this was basically the life-long, well-paid lawyer of the now dead-and-buried R. David Morrison. "If you wish, you may maintain this one and allow me to liquidate all the other holdings…which would significantly increase your billions by a factor of five by-the-by!…for my standard thirty-five percent, of course."

"Uh, s-sure, M-Mr. Algernon," stammered, slightly, the still-astonished Robert J. Johns. Still reeling from the blessedly impossible situation thrust upon him even as the body of a father he never knew had lain so secretively in state.

In what was almost literally a single, solitary day, Robert had gone from someone who's intellect constantly strained the paltry employment situations such as he had been forced to accept in order to prevent that proverbial wolf from coming to his metaphorical front door.

To a multi-billionaire who could quite literally have anything he ever dreamed of owning and never again agonize about overdue bills like before.

"Now," curtly continued Theodore Algernon III, whilst placing a multi-page endorsable document directly before this brand-new billionaire on an ornate table in the leading drawing room on the grandiose ground floor. "If you'll just sign these papers where I've marked in red…then initial where highlighted in blue…I'll be on my way."

With hands as shaky as his shuddering Inner Self, still in pseudo-shock over the sheer hugeness of his fantastic fortune, Robert did as so condescendingly instructed, then…

"Fine, fine," Theodore said somewhat wearily, as if obtaining billionaires' certified, by him!, signatures was an all-too-common custom. Then, after retrieving a very special cellphone from the confines of a ludicrously expensive briefcase of luxurious leather…

"What's this for?" sheepishly asked Robert, while looking over a clearly costly cellphone as thin and high-tech as any available.

"That's," literally pointed out the too-proper/positively aloof lawyer, "is an encrypted cell that will quickly connect you with one of my own. In case you should need _any_thing. My services are also as per Mr. Morrison's requests via his deathbed bequest. Now…I must make my way back to my law firm in order to properly file away this documentation. Call me if you should need me, Mr. Johns. Good day."

As the closing of the elegant, large front door of the magnificently immense mansion echoed eerily throughout the ground floor of the inordinately opulent interior…

"Why would I need a special cell just to contact an attorney?" openly pondered a still-shocked-over-all-that-had-happened, freshly-enriched Robert J. Johns. His voice, soft-yet-serious, also echoing in the high-ceiling, whole house-sized drawing room. "Probably just wants to see to it he still has a billionaire client. _Bill_ionaire. Still seems like a damn dream! Hm. Wonder what the rest of this 'home' looks like?"

Walking through the expensive expanse of a billionaire's dwelling of wealth, surrounded by acres and acres of well-groomed land, Robert wasn't surprised to suddenly run into one of many inherited non-indentured servants.

"May I be of any assistance, sir?" asked a seeming cliché on legs, resplendent in a time-honored tuxedo-type attire. Readily replete with white gloves.

"Uh, yeah, Mister…?" fished this Master of the Manor, whom was still struggling with his instant standing as a multi-billionaire heir regarding a parent he'd never known.

"Just call me Carlson, sir," said, somewhat snootily, this butler extraordinaire.

"Uh, OK," nervously avowed Robert, "a little help in navigating inside this place would be…"

"There is an elevator just down this hallway, sir," Carlson explicated whilst gesturing toward a hallway off to the tuxedoed servant's right. "It can take you to the entire manor house's floors…from ground to the four above and the one below."

"Below?" puzzled a suddenly enlivened, again!, Robert J. Johns as his green eyes flew wide and a smile spread slowly across his handsome face. "What's down there, uh, Carlson?"

It certainly seemed an amused smirk momentarily played upon the otherwise standoffish features of the fifty-something Carlson-the-butler, before he half-bowed and said simply, "I and the rest of the day staff shall be at your service should you require anything at all, sir."

No sooner disappearing, soundlessly it seemed, from the enormity of the ground floor area, than a curiosity that canceled out any and all other overwhelming emotions dominated mind and mien…

As this newest Master of the Manor made his way down said hallway toward the single solitary elevator that could quickly whisk him from floor-to-floor with near-silent ease…

Then, once standing inside the especially opulent elevator, tapping the touch-sensitive button corresponding to a sub-floor section of a vast structure of supreme prosperity…

As the highly-polished double-doors barely rumbled as they quickly closed, followed by a slight jolt that signaled a swift descent into…what?

"Holy…!"

END OF CHAPTER 1


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hundreds of feet beneath a billionaire's palatial private residence resting in the heart of a hundred-plus acres of truly valuable land, itself surrounded by the best high-tech security walls and cameras that money could buy…

A mansion of some four full floors aboveground that contained twenty-plus bedrooms as well as other opulently ornate interiors for a wide variety of prosperous purposes, such as den, bowling alley, movie room, and so forth…

The highly imaginative, daydreaming, exceptionally intelligent Robert J. Johns, surprised recipient of many billions from a father he had not known, would stand stunned yet excited at what was housed so auspiciously in that vast belowground high-ceiling section…

"I can't believe this," Robert continued to himself as widened eyes of green gaped at what could best be described as the singular collector's dream-come-true.

Not just complete million-dollar collections of not only comic book compilations, especially so from DC Comics, and also not just signature selections of one-of-a-kind artwork by the greatest in the business. Such as from the consummate creators of such as Superman, Batman, the Flash, etc.

But the unique physical creations from specific superhero shows from the late-Fifties through the mid-Sixties: such as "The Adventures of Superman", starring the late great George Reeves, and what was, for many, the one-and-only "Batman" from the quasi-campy television series starring Adam West as the Caped Crusader.

There, before a fellow lover of such originals, though his age generally precluded the periods prior to modern-day "Batman" and "Superman" movies…

"The original Batman suit," reverentially vocalized Robert, whilst walking along through this privately retained superhero museum. "The original Superman suit. The original Batmobile from the Sixties television show. Incredible!"

That last was said so excitedly that the four-syllable statement echoed endlessly through the immensity of said museum, secretively created far below the visible surface of an expensive estate that, clearly, acted as the absolute center of R. David Morrison's favored valuables. Someone whose status as a multi-billionaire was as unknown as Robert J. Johns entire existence.

Then, the instant such steadily disappeared, exactly like echoed comments within a wilderness' incalculably large cave, from directly to Robert's rear…

"This was the Master's most prized possessions in the entire world, Master Robert."

Spinning, Robert saw Carlson, the loyal butler, slowly walking toward him. The expression on the seemingly snooty servant to, first, R. David Morrison and, now, Robert J. Johns finally afforded an affectation of semi-emotionality as compared to the coldness previously presented.

"He was into old-time superheroes, too?" smilingly asked Robert as his still-wide eyes of green continued to take in all that surrounded his person. "The old Superman…the old Batman?"

"Yes," said Carlson as he stopped just behind the billionaire heir to the greatest single authentic assembly of DC Comics collectables than any other human anywhere in the world. "He always hoped that whoever inherited his holdings would 'love' such as well. It would seem his wishes were, indeed, answered. In you."

"Like father like son, I suppose," said Robert somewhat bitter-sweetly, whilst a cool-and-collected butler supreme stood stock still so close to this newest Master of the Manor.

"Yes, so it would seem, sir," Carlson said respectfully, yet still suffused with a certain self-assurance one might come to expect from a stogy steward of such a massive multi-floor mansion. "It was decided, just before the former Master passed away, that should his only living legatee share his extensive 'love' for this Golden Age of superhero subsistence via television. Well, such was when I was supposed to approach and hand you his lifelong desires to make 'real' what was merely looked upon as puerile imaginings."

"Huh?" puzzled a suddenly scowling in bewilderment Robert as he turned toward Carlson whom held out a DVD-ROM in a case of sumptuous silver. "What's this?"

"I dare say, sir," said a butler who'd clearly already perused its copious contents, "that it shall be self-explanatory. There is a centralized control center with what could be called 'supercomputers' situated at the far end. After you have previewed all that this contains, I shall be an intercom call away when you need me. Don't worry, sir. You'll understand soon enough."

Even as his own shoed clip-clopping so loudly followed this lone billionaire heir through the heart of the cavernous collection of DC Comics' superheroes, primarily Superman and Batman!…

Robert J. Johns soon found himself standing before an incredibly elaborate and especially expensive setup of supercomputers capable of acquiring a disparate amount of information in far less time than the best PC on the internationally connected market.

Seating himself dead-center of such, he soon located and activated the DVD-ROM reader for what was held in the protected interior of its silvery case.

Seconds later…

"What the…?"

The plasma monitors, separately as well as collectively, began steadily displaying an impressive presentation in direct connection with actually making use of such as the TV Batmobile and Batman getup to do what would appear to be part of some unsold plot for comic book or televised series.

"This…c-can't be for real…"

Even as Robert iterated such under his abbreviated breath, his guarded green eyes beheld the literal stratagem to put into play said items as an honest-to-God superhero rescuer of real-life victims of street crime.

The first, and most likely to be realized, was, understandably…

"A real plan," pondered Robert with much more than a little interest and irrefutable fascination whilst still staring at the displays, "for being a…Batman?"

Even as such was said so astonishingly, Robert J. Johns swiveled his seat all the way around to stare unblinkingly at the Batmobile and Batman attire preserved so perfectly.

And as every other thing presented in association with such scientific aspects as bulletproofed embellishments to add to costume and car crossed screen and consciousness…

"Why not?"

END OF CHAPTER 2


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Roughly an hour-and-a-half after reviewing everything related to precisely how one would go about turning TV costume and car into real-world crime fighting items…

"Carlson," said a suffused with fervor Robert J. Johns after activating, with a touch, the intercom situated beside the supercomputer center at the far end of the subterranean DC superhero museum. "I'm ready."

"Very good, sir," Carlson's voice said smoothly, with little to no inflection of feeling.

Then, no longer than it took for the butler to take the multi-floor elevator into the cavernous belowground location…

"First, sir," he said whilst opening a special locked safe-like container in one corner of the sizeable sub-floor, "it will be necessary to incorporate what I believe is called 'dragon skin' bulletproof padding to torso and head. As you can see, such was previously purchased in abundance by the late Master."

"Yes, yes!" excitedly exclaimed the man whom had so swiftly arose from mediocrity to multi-billionaire, his eyes of green gazing longingly at the most recent creation of lightweight protection against gunfire. "This could really work!"

"Theoretically, sir," Carlson cautiously stated, whilst pulling out the bulletproof padding in order to reshape such to be permanently positioned within the half-cowl and, as to the torso, cinch such snuggly about Robert's upper-body.

Then, after donning said Bat-suit from the Sixties, Robert-as-Batman walked toward the Batmobile from that self-same show, as Carlson expounded somewhat sanctimoniously…

"The original curved Plexiglas of the Batmobile has already been replaced by bulletproofed windscreens. The Batmobile's body, however, is still susceptible to potential damage."

"I don't suppose," uncertainly said Robert-as-Batman, as he slipped himself behind the half-wheel as the driver's door, bearing the bat-symbol, closed solidly, "there really is a jet-like engine for rapid propulsion?"

"Though such was, on a small scale, a possibility," explicated Carlson, as snootily as expected of the peerless butler. "It was decided that it might too-easily destabilize said vehicle. However, the engine has been reworked to provide a top speed of some 200 miles-per-hour. Should such be required, of course."

"As this Batmobile is already aimed outward, toward the opposite side of the, uh, museum," mused this bona fide Batman, waving a Bat-gloved hand at a heavily shadowed section of the sub-floor region precisely opposite to the supercomputers section. "Might I surmise that…"

"It opens up," Carlson confidently concluded with a half head-nod, "onto a seemingly unused road that leads to a properly paved highway a thousand yards from the manor. Good luck, sir, on your first excursion as what the former Master had not lived long enough to experience."

"Carlson," asked a suddenly uncertain billionaire-cum-Batman about to drive a television vehicle called the Batmobile as cowl-covered eyes of green gaped at the butler extraordinaire, "is this as ridiculously dangerous as it appears? I mean…a man in a Bat-suit and a Bat-car about to combat crime?"

Not one to say anything at all disparaging to the Master of the Manor, especially since the previous had envisioned such just prior to expiration, Carlson simply said by way of an apparent afterthought, "By the way, sir, the Bat-belt you wear actually carries in its compartments a variety of real-world antipersonnel articles, such as miniature 'flash bombs', I believe they are called, as well as tear gas dispensers, and various sharp-edged 'bat-shaped' items for tossing."

"Really?" Robert-as-Batman managed with a sudden smile. "Does that mean there's a Batarang in one of the…"

"Yes," swiftly said Carlson as seemingly passionlessly as previous statements. "However, it has been significantly 'enhanced' so as to be much more self-sufficient, so to speak, and not truly need any accuracy-in-throwing on the part of yourself, sir."

With nothing else left to cautiously question, this real-world Batman managed to start a rumbling-with-heavy horsepower engine, normally meant for a race car rather than a television vehicle so intrinsically associated with a pre-recent movies version of a singularly costumed crime fighter…

"Here we go," quietly commented this Batman as, in the next split-second, a Bat-booted foot pressed upon an accelerator…

SCRRRRREEEEECH!

…and soared out through a half-hidden egress onto a rough-hewn road leading straight and sure to a highway, which would, ultimately, lead into the heart of a city wherein a crime could be quite quickly encountered.

Into New York City, to be exact. From an upstate estate far removed from prying eyes.

At first, there seemed to be naught to accomplish save giving nighttime New Yorkers a look at a television vehicle as recognizable as the Bat-suited person driving it.

Then, from an in-dash police band radio, yet another addition to the TV Batmobile made by a former multi-billionaire whose last acts were aimed at the creation of a true hero in gray-and-blue…

"…417 in progress at…"

As the daydreaming desires of a highly intelligent pre-billionaire-turned-Batman Robert recalled such from his casual studies of such Police Code told him there was a gun-toting individual evidently threatening another…

"At the risk of sounding like a cliché," this real-world Batman said softly, whilst smiling almost madly. "It's show time."

"Look, my friend," half-pleaded the unarmed man to the one holding a flat-black Glock 9mm. "I didn't know that was your woman when I hit on her the other night. No need to…"

"Shut the hell up, or I'll…!" started the snarling-with-rage man with a gun that had generated the 417 police call picked up by a certain seeming superhero.

RRRRRRRRRR-mmmmmmmmm!

At that self-same instant, causing this Glock-holding individual, as well as his intended target stemming from some unreasoning rage via jealousy, to both turn in the direction of the roar from a race car's engine evidently in a Batmobile from Sixties television…

"What the fu…?"

"Is this some sort'a joke?"

As rage and relief, from gunman and unarmed man, were readily replaced by wide-eyed disbelief, a certain sudden-billionaire-cum-Batman climbed out with more than minor nervousness at doing something most might merely daydream of doing…

"OK, uh, just put away the weapon," warned, in a lukewarm worded challenge by the cowled-and-caped person slowly stepping closer with Bat-gloved hand extended in a gesture suggestive of the surrendering of said handgun. "Or, better yet, give it to me. The police are probably on their way and…"

Suddenly laughing loudly at the thought of this costumed civilian daring to do what would usually be seen on the old "Batman" TV series from the Sixties or on the printed pages of a DC comic book…

"I don't know what the hell you're on," laughed a gunman gradually aiming the Glock at this newest target in cowl-and-cape, "but you're about to become as 'canceled' as that old show!"

Even as such was swiftly taking place, prior to the arrival of a two-man team of uniformed officers in an official NYPD patrol car, the man who had been on the business end of the Glock 9mm came to his senses just enough to escape into the city's heavily shadowed-via-nighttime surroundings, then…

POW!

"Uhn!"

Just as a baptism-by-(gun)fire occurred for a previously nervous Batman in regards to the worn-under-Bat-suit/cowl "dragon skin" protection actually being able to halt a bullet fired from a few feet away…

"Huh…?"

And as the Glock-carrying attacker was stunned by his apparent inability to kill this "freak" with that straight-into-the-chest shot, whilst this real-world crime fighting Batman came to realize no real harm had been done by that 9mm impact…

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he snarled somewhat sinisterly, as he pulled what he had already looked at within the Bat-belt whilst soaring in via his Batmobile from upstate New York.

Then, after tossing such directly in front of the gunman mere moments before a second shot could be unleashed…

Pop-sssssssshhhhhhhhh!

"Gyak!"

And whilst this potential killer coughed from the miniature tear gas bomb, whose extremely potent contents quickly dissipated so Robert-as-Batman could come closer and…

Thump!

Thud!

In a move from movies and television alike, this formerly fretful Batman managed to send the shooter to the sidewalk, while also dislodging said gun in order to eject both magazine and chambered bullet.

WHOO-oooo-WHOO-oooo-WHOO-oooo-WHOO-oooo!

Then, as the siren sound was quickly closing, this Batman hurriedly reentered his Batmobile and, dropping it into Drive and stomping onto the accelerator, squealed quickly away in the absolutely opposite direction, so as not to be booked as the crazily costumed vigilante avenger that he, in point of very real legality, he truly turned out to be.

"I did it," the man in the Batman getup smilingly said as he sped away in what was the original, and readily recognized, Batmobile from a once-popular television series. "I did it! Ha-_haaaaa_!"

Suddenly swept up in the extreme excitement brought about by combating crime whilst wearing the cowl-and-cape made so famous by Adam West decades earlier, as well as driving, very rapidly!, the honest-to-God Batmobile from that self-same era…

"Let's see what else the police bands can come up with for me to take on tonight," muttered, smilingly still!, this suddenly enlivened Batman as he turned the volume louder on his in-dash device tuned to police calls from anywhere in New York City.

"…possible 211 in progress at…"

"All _right_," lightly lauded someone who was suddenly more Batman than Robert, whilst swinging the one-and-only Batmobile to his left at a higher-than-normal street speed. "A robbery for the Batman! _Yeah_."

END OF CHAPTER 3


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"C'mon, hurry the hell up!" sinisterly snarled a scowling career-criminal to his years younger partner, after they'd invaded the closed-for-the-night New York City establishment specializing in expensive jewelry and watches. "The cops'll be here before we know it, kid!"

"Uh, s-sure," nervously stammered the seemingly innocent, save for this first-time hardcore criminal act, pre-twenties youth caught up in something much more than the young man imagined. All he wanted to do was to get just enough money to not have to sleep on the streets of New York for two or three uninterrupted nights. "I'm n-not so convinced w-we should…"

"Shut the hell up, ya little bastard!" rowdily warned the older, by a decade or more, man whom had been arrested several times since he'd started such an extremely dishonest existence in order to do much more than merely manage to pay for a place to sleep and maybe buy several solid meals. "It'll take the cops at least ten or more minutes to get here. And I damn well mean to be at least six or seven city blocks away by then, so hurry up!"

Even as the younger of the two hesitantly collected as much ultra-expensive items such as he could, or should!, stuff into the pockets of his overtly worn-out garments…

"C'mon, let's get the hell outta here!"

…and as he hesitantly, still!, followed the older one out through the broken-into rear door in order to exit via their prior illegal entrance…

RRRRRRRRRRR-mmmmmmmmmm!

"Hold it right there!"

As the two stopped short, after a strange-looking car screeched to a swift cessation of obviously overly-rapid speed from a direction far from whence the police would eventually arrive…

"W-who…?" stammered a suddenly scared-as-hell youth, not at all acclimated to acts of criminality, even as the driver stepped into the headlights of a Batmobile. Readily revealing himself to be a Batman.

"What is this?" angrily growled the older career criminal, whilst slipping a .45 from behind his shirted Self. "Some comic book collectin' idiot lookin' for a thrill?"

"Just surrender and you won't be…"

"Hurt?" the professional felon jarringly interjected, even as this probable Batman reached into yet another pre-perused compartment of the Bat-belt in order to produce another real-life antipersonnel article the legendary comic-book/Sixties TV show superhero would, indeed, incorporate therein…

BAM! BAM!

"Uhn! Uhn!"

Even as the villain fired, from barely two-and-a-half feet from the man within said Sixties Bat-suit, two .45 caliber bullets into the protected-via-Kevlar-like "dragon skin" vest 'neath the grayish top bearing the bat-in-yellow symbol so easily seen even under the shroud of darkness.

In the scant seconds it would take for Robert-as-Batman to catch his breath, whilst forcing himself to ignore the agony-producing impacts from two bullets loosened so uncomfortably close…

"Have it your way!"

Than this real-life Batman retrieved via the yellow Bat-belt what was as instantly understood as was his Bat-suit and Batmobile…

"A Batarang!" the younger offender, howbeit hesitantly so!, exclaimed with a mixture of astonished excitement and dead-certain dread.

Even as the older criminal re-chambered a bullet via the .45 in order to fire more of same at this stranger-than-fiction form before him…

"You're a _dead_-man, not a Batman!"

One was stubbornly, and even violently, defiant, as the second…

"I g-give up…uh, B-Batman!"

At that exact same instant more ammo had been hellishly unleashed by the True Bad Man…

Thweewn! Thweewn! Thweewn! Thweewn!

…ricocheting harmlessly from not only curved, and bulletproofed, fore-and-aft windshields, but, unpredictably, the body of the Batmobile as well…

Batman had already hurled the Batarang upward, whereby built-in gyros, along with nano-jets, sent it straight toward the brick-and-mortar outer wall area of the robbed jewelry enterprise…

THUNK-THANG!

…wherein one of its super-sharp ends sank into said brick-and-mortar to afford more than enough anchoring so the already attached-to-Bat-belt 400-pound test Bat-line rapidly lifted the under-200 pound multi-billionaire heir-cum-Batman almost straight up…

"Wha…?"

Thump!

"Oof!"

Thud!

…so Bat-booted feet could, whilst Batman was swinging as he was rapidly rising into the night air, thanks to said Batarang-and-attached line…

…then impacted hard enough into the True Bad Man's chest to send his head slamming so hard down onto the pavement that swift unconsciousness was assured.

Then, after dropping to the ground again, a hard, sharp jerk via the nearly unbreakable Bat-line dislodged the significantly "enhanced" Batarang so such could be replaced into that bright yellow Bat-belt…

"P-please, B-Batman…or whoever you really are!," began a groveling young man, whilst scooping out the stolen items from his threadbare apparel, which he shakily placed upon the pavement directly before Bat-booted feet. "I…I'm s-sorry for what I d-did! I was j-just trying to g-get enough m-money so I c-could eat and, and…!"

"Okay, okay, settle down," came a becalming Robert-as Batman, even as he helped the young man, who was barely a little younger than him!, to his unsteady feet and reevaluated the viewpoint of a superhero's human within. "What's your name?"

"C-Chris," nervously, still!, responded the dark-haired, blue-eyed, somewhat square-jawed, down-on-his-luck unlikely delinquent now facing the half-cowled crime fighter, as both stood in the Batmobile's lights. "Chris Kennerson."

Even as something about the barely-a-boy Chris struck a recognized chord within Robert-as-Batman, the swift-and-sure approach of police sirens prompted the man in the Bat-suit to gesture toward a strangely unharmed-by-bullets Batmobile.

Even as the two climbed into the legendary ground vehicle via television history, Chris simply accepting any semblance of escape from being arrested as a first-time B-and-E burglar…

The Batmobile, roaring away from the area, with the surrendered-via-Chris Kennerson jewelry and watches left lying on the ground in its rapid wake…

"I thought," muttered Batman to himself as such was swallowed whole by the ultra high-performance race-car level engine, as said Batmobile's speedometer swiftly exceeded a hundred miles-per-hour. "I thought Carlson said the car _wasn't_ protected against damage?"

Such slipped almost immediately into afterthought as the one-of-a-kind car, formerly part of a successful TV show of the Sixties, streaked away from downtown New York City and continued on toward the much more prosperous upstate New York.

Whereupon two would reenter a secretive egress/ingress so as to find themselves in the more-or-less middle of a magnificent mansion's belowground "lair".

And, then…

END OF CHAPTER 4


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5/Conclusion

"Wow!"

For perhaps the third or fourth time since stepping out of the real Batmobile to look all about himself at the superhero museum situated 'neath the impossibly spacious mansion, that single-syllable exclamation issued forth from a wide-eyed Chris Kennerson.

"Though I'm sure," said a de-cowled, now, Robert J. Johns, still in the Bat-suit made famous from the Sixties TV series, "you've probably never seen the old television shows these are based on…"

"Are you kidding?" Chris Kennerson suddenly, as well as smilingly, said, whilst longingly looking at the Superman suit from the heady days of George Reeves' reign as the televised Last Son of Krypton. "Before I ended up…you know…I used to watch my father's old DVD collection of 'The Adventures of Superman'. Of course…that was before him and my mother…"

Clearly, whatever had, indeed, happened to place, a lot earlier, this nearly-in-his-twenties youth on the harsh streets of New York City was especially emotional for him. Robert duly decided that whenever this sadness-suffused young man was invariably ready, he'd reveal whatever vile eventuality had ultimately transpired in his past.

In the meantime…

"So," Robert broached with a gradually growing grin, "as you probably already know, Chris, I didn't just bring you here to see this singular collection of comics and pre-movie version DC superhero stuff."

As astonishment swiftly segued into something much more down-to-Earth, a suddenly slightly scowling Chris rhetorically queried, "You want me to be Robin to your Batman?"

As amusement swiftly shifted to seriousness, and after Robert had buzzed his butler in order to bring the man called Carlson belowground as well…

"Not exactly," Robert said with certitude. "I was actually considering something much closer to DC Comics' 'World's Finest' than the televised series of 'Batman'."

Even as the multi-billionaire-as-Batman, still de-cowled of course, gestured toward the super-suit made famous by what some pre-movies version individuals considered as _the_ Superman…

"You wished to see me, sir?" Carlson staidly asked, even as he inwardly reacted to the quite curious, yet not utterly unexpected, fact that Robert J. Johns had returned from his first nighttime excursion as a true-life Caped Crusader with this dark-haired, blue-eyed years younger, pitifully attired, person.

"Uh, Carlson," began this Batman-made-real, sans identity-hiding half-cowl, "this is Chris Kennerson. I've brought him back to help fulfill my father's Stage Two considerations in regards to giving very real 'superheroes' to the City That Never Sleeps."

Already realizing the rest, Carlson said, after another half head-bow, "Certainly, Master Robert. I am aware of that part of the DVD-ROM made by the late-Master. And, as is obvious via the smallish holes in your Bat-suit's top…"

It was only then that Robert took notice of such as the end-result of bullets harmlessly hitting him via the "dragon skin" vest just underneath…

"…so it's a good thing the former Master took such into consideration," finished the tuxedo-and-white glove wearing butler extraordinaire as he activated, via a half-hidden button on one seemingly solid wall of the belowground "lair". Then barely audible motors swung said wall inward to reveal a vast sub-floor chamber beyond.

One with a seemingly endless selection of blue-gray costumes as undeniably Batman as the one Robert had worn on this, his first of many more consistent crime fighting forays as a real world Batman.

"As you can clearly see, sir," said Carlson with a slight smile playing upon his otherwise serious-as-usual expression. "The lack of adequate, and quick, costume acquisition shall not become a concern. As to Mr. Kennerson…"

Such was when not only Chris, but Robert, too, turned toward the butler even as the more maturated man activated a second secret door that opened to expose…

"With similar vest of 'dragon skin' Kevlar," continued Carlson as Chris' blue eyes and Robert's green gaped at as vast an assembly of old TV Superman suits as the previous had readily revealed. "Plus the special 'torso rigging' called for to give its wearer the real life illusion of self-flight. I presume such was the reason you sought to bring this young man back, Master Robert."

As a gregarious grin, doubling as both appreciation of the perceptive abilities of Carlson as well as a certain excitement in relation to turning Chris Kennerson into…

"Superman? Me?" managed an amazed-by-such-imaginative musings Chris, as a smiling man in a Batman costume, still sans the head's half-cowl, solidly placed a Bat-gloved hand onto Chris Kennerson's shoulder.

"So…?" seriously pressed Robert as if he would not have taken no for an answer. Especially so since the sparkle in Chris' blue eyes, whilst looking at the old TV show Superman costume, said it all.

"Sounds like fun…partner."

By the time two seemingly improbable superheroes were ready for nighttime crime fighting action in the heart of New York City, one relying upon an apparently bulletproof, just not RPG proof, Batmobile straight out of television history, as well as a Bat-belt full of antipersonnel paraphernalia…

The other dressed in the bright blue-red made so famous on Sixties television, wherein a rigging of unseen, especially at night, support wires, not too dissimilar to such used by stage magicians to seemingly levitate, allowed a Superman to roughly land and lift off after a running start...

When, in point of fact, such was secretively accomplished just prior to appearing at a crime-in-progress, wherein Chris-as-Superman actually rode in with Robert-as-Batman before getting out to hook hidden-harness to prearranged flight-rig, and then…

Crime and criminals were heroically confronted.

Moreover, both are adequately protected from harm via fired-by-bad guys' bullets thanks to said "dragon skin" directly under easily replaceable superhero apparel as unique now as they had been when once gracing small full-color television screens of the Sixties.

Something that soon, as expected and predicted, according to Carlson-the-butler, by the dead-and-buried R. David Morrison, was caught on camera and sold to local news stations…

"…and, once again, this is actual camcorder footage from last night's arrival of two supposed 'superheroes' in Batman and Superman costumes. The Batman arriving in the Batmobile from the same Sixties series as his suit, while, as this video recording clearly seems to show, the Superman literally flew in to land at about the same exact time as this Batman's Batmobile came screeching to a halt! Whereby, two drug dealers were…"

As the word Mute promptly appeared in the lower right corner of the large plasma screen in the grandiose den of the magnificent mansion's second floor, Carlson-the-butler, still attired in tuxedo with white gloves, both now worn with a little less comfort than at any point prior…

"Your father would be proud, Robert," he said with a spreading smile and glimmering eyes as green as those of Robert J. Johns. "And I _am_ proud of you…son."

It would, indeed, seem secretive identities did not stop with this Batman and this Superman suddenly so alive within the real world surroundings of New York City.

Except this secret would, for reasons only "Carlson" could come to completely comprehend, remain as such.

It seems some "superheroes" required a certain amount of Inner Sadness to drive them toward omni-beneficial lifestyles so seemingly impossible, save on the printed pages of the comic books of such as DC.

END(?)


End file.
